


You Flower, You Feast

by euhemeria



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/F, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15013160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: Despite some rather large points of contention between them in official meetings, they get along well enough in group conversations during meals and simulations, so Angela almost finds herself looking forwards to her first one on one meeting with Fareeha.Almost.Or,Between the fall of Overwatch and Recall, Angela transitioned.  She worries about what old friends will think, now that she is seeing them again.  (She needn't do so.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gloriousdownfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloriousdownfall/gifts), [vic_e_ter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vic_e_ter/gifts).



> okay so this is gifted to two people. first, joana, [who drew art featuring trans mercy](http://gloriousdownfall.tumblr.com/post/175085742098/happy-pride-month) and caught flak for it from transphobes; her art is so good it made me want to write another fic specifically abt angela being trans for the first time in like... almost two yrs (like yeah i always write trans mercy but usually incidentally and not principally and joana made me Feel Things so here we are), and second, vice, who was a bit of an indirect inspiration here, as i was thinking about what i liked so much abt her fics--their gentle exploration of _what might yet be_ , and directly was helpful in writing this by wordsprinting me.
> 
> a few notes before u read on hcs:  
> 1) angela came out abt 4 yrs before this fic is set--so a yr or two after ovw fell, and a handful after ana was shot and "kia", the last time she saw fareeha being at ana's funeral  
> 2) fareeha is muslim... which may as well be canon... and she has one prosthetic arm  
> 3) okay tbh i kinda forgot this wasnt in my main fic verse so i wrote her as someone who has used sign language her whole life--bc i hc sam as deaf--but then i went back and edited things so its ambiguous enough that u _could_ read fareeha as deaf, in this fic  
>  4) i make a reference to transbianism--a real thing!--aka the phenomenon of trans ladies going from bi or interested in men prior to transition to being lesbians once on hrt for a bit. angela in this verse is 100% a transbian LKAJSDFLAKSDFA. and its valid!  
> 5) this isnt connected to my other stuff but if u want to read more phamercy w trans angela i literally have like almost 200k of it so, knock urself out

In the first few weeks after the Recall begins, Angela and Fareeha see very little of one another. Until alterations, augmentations, and repairs to the Valkyrie suit are completed, Angela will not be serving in the field alongside her fellow agents, most of whom have seen action far more recently than she and are, therefore, already in fighting form, and back on base they have few reasons to see each other; Angela is busy returning the medbay to working condition, as well as reestablishing her lab and ensuring that Zenyatta and Lúcio have the necessary certifications to work as field medics, and Fareeha is rather involved in running the entire Recall operation, putting to good use the experience she has gained as an officer in the eight years since the two of them last saw one another. Furthermore, they have little enough reason to seek one another out, given that they hardly knew one another even when Overwatch existed and Ana was alive.

Despite some rather large points of contention between them in official meetings, they get along well enough in group conversations during meals and ‘team-bonding activities’ (a sarcastic suggestion by Jesse that Winston has taken all too seriously, much to the chagrin of everyone else), and so Angela almost finds herself looking forwards to her first one on one meeting with Fareeha.

_Almost._

It is a difficult thing, for Angela, meeting people from her past, and not only because the destruction of Overwatch was such a disruption in the lives of everyone she knew. To speak in groups is one thing, made easier by the rules which govern such social interactions, but privately? Privately there are often comments, and even when well-intentioned they are awkward. When she can, Angela does her best to avoid private conversations with those she used to know entirely, has been doing so for the past four years—but, as a consequence of her return, of her emotional obligation to the people she called a team for more than a decade, she finds herself increasingly put in such situations. With everyone here, who has answered the Recall, it has gone well, yet still she worries.

(Others, who did not answer, were not so kind.)

Perhaps her anxiousness is writ across her face—or, perhaps, Fareeha has merely noted the lengths to which she has gone to avoid this meeting—because she is surprised by the offer of bourbon when she sits down across the desk from Fareeha.

For a moment, Angela considers asking if this was Jesse's recommendation, both because it is bourbon and because he has often plied her with alcohol in order to convince her to talk, but it is Blanton's and therefore far too nice to be any suggestion of his; instead, she asks the more pressing question that comes to mind:

“Isn't this haram?” To Angela's knowledge, Fareeha is not strictly observant, but she thinks she remembers, a decade before, Fareeha declining a drink at a party on those grounds.

“Well, it isn't for me to drink,” Fareeha answers, and offers a grin which is just on the right side of cocky.

Again, Angela thinks of and then immediately discards a question then why have it at all? That is too intrusive for such a meeting as this, and she does not want any personal questions asked of _herself_ , so perhaps it is best not to set a precedent.

Perhaps Fareeha's having it is not a hypocrisy at all; certainly it is suited to the rest of the room's decoration, rich dark colors in a fashion long since antiquated by the time either of them were born. Before today, Angela would not have guessed that Fareeha were the sort of woman to buy such things for show, but clearly Fareeha's tastes are different than she thought—and nicer. Angela has seen a thousand light and cold offices, all transparent or electronic surfaces, and her own is the same; the hard, dark wood is a nice change of pace, though it is polished well enough that it shines no less than the glass desk that preceded it, in the old days of Overwatch.

In any case, Angela declines; no one has ever accused her of doing anything in moderation, for better or for worse, so it would be best not to begin drinking now.

Fareeha nods in understanding—or, at least, in a way which, given Fareeha's demeanor, invariably _reads_ as understanding; she has a way of establishing a rapport with people, at least according to Jesse, and the glowing recommendation from her superiors at Helix which was included in her personnel file—and their meeting begins in earnest.

Nothing in the meeting is particularly critical, or time sensitive; the two of them are just touching base on Angela's progress in reinstating the surgical and medical research facilities, and, frankly, it might have been done via a series of internal memoranda, rather than this, were it not for Fareeha's stubborn insistence on _getting to know_ the people with whom she commands.

It is something Angela ought to appreciate—camaraderie is important—and Fareeha is very easy to talk to, but, still, she worries about what will happen when the two of them inevitably fall to small talk.

(Perhaps she ought to consider herself lucky that they did not begin there.)

And, eventually, they do; it is almost a seamless transition, after a very productive meeting, into a bit of interoffice gossip and catching up, so much so that for a moment Angela forgets how nervous she is and finds herself instead enraptured by the way Fareeha's hands move when she talks, metal on her left side perfectly mirroring the flesh on her right, with the sort of expressive face that a person who spent a lifetime using sign has.

Her concentration lapses for but an instant, but it is long enough for Fareeha to notice, and to inquire.

“Sorry,” says Angela, and then, “I was only noticing how much you've changed.”

It is true; Fareeha is not the woman Angela first met, at Ana's fiftieth birthday party, twenty-two years old and still desperate to prove herself, nor is she the twenty-three year old potential recruit Angela examined before Ana ultimately guaranteed her application to join Overwatch was rejected, and she is most certainly changed from when last they saw each other, eight years ago at Ana's funeral. Then, grief had diminished her, made her seem smaller than Angela already knew her to be, and it had made her seem younger, too—or perhaps that was simply the way in which baby fat stubbornly clung to her face, although all trace of it is gone, now, by thirty-two. Then, unlike now, both of her arms were flesh and bone, and she did not have the tattoo that sits beneath one eye, a reminder of her mother but not an imitation, and her hair was pulled back in a military fashion, not allowed to be loose as she evidently prefers.

It is true; in many ways Fareeha has grown as a person in the ensuing years, has changed. She is a leader, now, and accomplished in her own right—she has not modeled herself after her mother after all, but is a woman all her own. In turn, her confidence has grown; she is more quick to joke now, and to smile, and Angela finds she is a bit envious of that, being herself still anxious, often, in the presence of people she does not know well.

It is true, but it is the wrong thing to say, given that it leaves the opening for Fareeha's reply:

“I could certainly say the same to you,” says she.

Angela does not try to hide her responding wince, nor could she if she so desired—this is precisely the conversation she has been hoping to avoid.

“Well,” she begins, smoothing her skirt with flat palms before realizing, abruptly, that she does not know quite what to say—she never does, in this situation, despite the number of times it has happened in the past four years or so, “I suppose that is true.”  Certainly, she _has_ changed quite a bit, in both appearance and, to a degree, demeanor, as well as in any number of other ways.

Her discomfort must be all too obvious, for Fareeha apologizes immediately, “I’m sorry,” says she, “You must get that a lot.” When Angela nods tightly in confirmation she continues, “Really, I meant that you seem happier.”

Does she?  It surprises Angela to hear it, nervous as she has been today, but she supposes it might be true, and Fareeha certainly seems sincere, face as earnest as ever.

Despite Fareeha’s good intentions, and despite the fact that, privately, Angela thinks that Fareeha seems happier, too, than she ever did than her mother was alive, her only response is to say, “The last time we saw one another was at a funeral.  I certainly _hope_ I look happier than then.”

Fareeha falters only a moment before continuing, “I meant in general, I guess.  Not compared to then.  Or really right now, for that matter!”

Expression flat, Angela replies, “Fareeha, we hardly knew each other then, and we barely know each other any better now.”

Now it is Fareeha’s turn to wince, “I’m not going about this the right way, am I?”

“No,” she agrees, “You aren’t,” and Fareeha’s immediate response is to look so contrite that Angela nearly feels bad for being so blunt—would, if she were not so sick of having this conversation with well-intentioned former acquaintances who heard about her on the news.

“What…” she pauses, formulating the question, “What would’ve been a better way to approach this?”

“Frankly,” says Angela, “I would have preferred that we not have this conversation at all.”

“Duly noted,” and as with so many things she does, there is such a genuineness to Fareeha’s expression as she says it that Angela finds herself believing that yes, next time Fareeha finds herself in this position she will handle it far better.

For a moment, she thinks that that will be that, and is just about to stand to leave when Fareeha continues, face serious:

“I just wanted you to know that if anyone says anything—does anything—that I’ll make it clear to them that such behavior won’t be tolerated.  I know I’m not your superior officer when we aren’t in the field together but… I want you to be well, and happy here.”

“Oh,” says Angela then.  It takes her entirely by surprise, but now Fareeha’s insistence that they meet privately makes much more sense, if it was entirely for the purpose of making her comfortable enough to have this part of their conversation.  Perhaps they might have discussed official business through internal communications, but this was something better done in person, where Fareeha could look her in the eye and impress upon her that she _meant_ what she was saying.  “Thank you,” Angela adds, a bit belatedly, for she _is_ thankful, because Fareeha bothered to arrange for this, because she is not used to such things, because she can tell how genuine it is.

She ought to say something more—about how she knew when she decided to transition, what the risk was, about how she’s taken care of herself just fine in the past four years, even throughout the tabloid frenzy that ensued when it became clear that she was transgender, about how other than a few slip-ups that she suspects were just mistakes borne of habit, everyone here has been respectful of her new name and her pronouns, and she doubts intervention is necessary—but it feels _good_ , knowing that Fareeha is looking out for her, both because it is nice to know, for the first time in a long while, that she is not alone, and because it is Fareeha in particular.

“I’d like for you to be happy, too,” she adds, and it is true.  Angela wants most people to be well—both as a facet of her personality and an occupational hazard, but she wants Fareeha in specific to be so, both because Fareeha is good, and kind, and gives much for others, and has suffered far more than she deserves, and also because, if she is being entirely honest with herself, Angela is noticing now, eight years later, how very, _very_ attractive Fareeha Amari is.

(Before transitioning, Angela was hardly interested in women, if at all—but now she finds they are the _only_ people she is interested in.  It is quite the shift, and one which Angela had some difficulty in explaining to Jesse when he invited her to be his wingman again at their favorite off-base bar.  He eventually laughed it off saying she couldn’t bear to be straight, and he respects that, but the truth is more complicated than Angela could put into words, is jealousy and longing and admiration and a hatred of her past self all tangled together.  It is complicated, but this is simple: Fareeha is beautiful, and funny, and dedicated, and what Angela might once have classed as envy is certainly _infatuation_.)

“I am,” says Fareeha, “Now, I think.  I wasn’t for a very long time.”  Her smile is rueful, then, and Angela remembers a younger Fareeha, at 24, hurt by her mother’s rejection, angry that it had impeded her career aspirations, devastated because her mother had died before they could reconcile; it is not hard to believe, in this moment, that Fareeha suffered for a time, is not hard when she is so open, has fought to be able to be vulnerable, even if, after this meeting, Fareeha will be smiling and laughing again and anyone who saw her would never know what it is she has survived.

“Neither was I,” Angela admits, knowing that her statement is rather less surprising than Fareeha’s—she is neither good enough at masking her discomfort to have fully hidden it, nor does she allow herself to be as open as Fareeha just was, afraid of what such exposure might mean.

(Envy and attraction again: Fareeha can be strong when she must, and allows herself to be weak when she needs to be.  Angela often worries that she herself manages neither, but something about Fareeha’s openness just draws Angela in closer, wondering what else there is to Fareeha that she can so well hide from the rest of the world.)

“Are you now?” Fareeha asks her, so different from her earlier assumption.

“Yes,” says Angela, because she _is_ , even if Recall is difficult for many reasons, even if she is having to find a way to make old friendships work, again, and constantly wonders if, had she not come out, they might have fallen into place easily, even if she worries about what the future may hold, and how they will avoid the mistakes of the past.  “I think I will be,” and with Fareeha at their helm, it is true.

“Good,” Fareeha adds, and then, “I think I will be, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had an agreement w zac 3amsoda that we would both make something we ha been meaning to make, and i asked for guidance in narrowing that down and the answer was fluffy fareeha content so. here we are.

A crisis of confidence brought the original Overwatch to its knees, one that was in no small part caused by problems with leadership.  Knowing this, Fareeha does whatever she can to be the leader that the Recall needs, to be the sort of person whom the press can hold accountable, in the event of an incident, but who does not give so much that doing so makes them vulnerable to attack.  Her mother was not a good leader—not always—could have been, if she had ever been willing to be a public face for Overwatch, to publicly acknowledge their failures, but that was never one of Ana Amari’s strengths, admitting she was wrong.

Fareeha is here to fix the Amari legacy, is here to _do better_.  Part of that is developing a rapport with those under her command.  Once, she might have prioritized the mission, or distancing herself from the people she commands, but Fareeha knows better than to do that, now, knows that a certain level of trust will win her far more respect than strict adherence to regulation ever could, particularly among those who have enlisted in the Recall.

In the field, she _needs_ those beneath her to follow her commands not because she is their leader, but because they have faith in her ability to make the right decisions for the strike as a whole, because they know that she will strive to do what is best for all of them, because they understand that she wants nothing more than to bring them all home safely.  If she relied solely on her position, some of them would never develop that trust, not after the last Overwatch.

She understands.

Being a good leader means knowing what your team needs from you, not as a whole, but as individuals, and finding a way to make those conflicting needs meet.  Part of this, she has learned in her years of service, is to treat everyone _fairly_ , but not to treat them equally; not all members of her team will need as much from her to be successful, would find it stifling if she checked in on them constantly—others will need far more from her, will not want to trust, unless she proves to them that she is deserving of such.

Angela is slow to trust, is uncertain, still, if the Recall is a good thing, is here as much to keep an eye on it as she is help, Fareeha knows this.  Therefore, it is necessary, in the beginning, to spend as much time face to face with Angela as possible, to draw her in, to let her know that Overwatch is somewhere that will prioritize her needs, as much as possible, that they will help her with her research and listen to her (very strongly worded) objections to their various proposals, that she can _trust_ in Fareeha as a leader, because Fareeha is not her mother, is not the sort of person who would have developed the biotic rifle without Angela’s consent, nor the sort of person who would have taken Angela’s refusal to endorse the project as evidence of a _lack of commitment_ to Overwatch. 

It is necessary, in the beginning, but they are far past that, now.  Nine months into the Recall and Angela has long since settled among them, has come to accept that the Recall is not old Overwatch, is not going to fall victim to the same sort of shortcomings which brought its predecessor to its knees, is not going to use members and spit them out.

It _was_ necessary, and it is not now, but Fareeha tells herself, still, that it is for the sake of building rapport that she and Angela hold budget meetings in person, rather than simply sending each other proposals electronically.  It is for the sake of building rapport that they discuss how their weeks have gone over lunch every Friday afternoon, and gossip about the goings on around base.  It is for the sake of building rapport that Fareeha moves her workout schedule to align with Angela’s, the two of them alone in the gym and—

—It is decidedly _not_ for the sake of building rapport that Fareeha finds her eyes trailing to Angela’s ass during such times.

(The first time Fareeha notices Angela, _really_ notices, the attraction surprises her.  When they knew each other before, she did not find Angela attractive in the slightest, barely even noticed what it was she looked like, but perhaps it should not be such a shock.  Angela is a woman now, and so the same features which Fareeha might not have cared about nine years ago are suddenly all the same things which Fareeha is drawn to in potential partners—the sharpness of her jaw, the strength of her thighs, the nimbleness of her fingers.  If Angela were a man, those things would not matter, but she is a woman, and Fareeha knows that now, and suddenly things are different.)

Of course, Fareeha tries not to stare, only notices now and again.  Staring would be rude and, besides, is not something she feels particularly good about when Angela is plainly not as comfortable with the way she looks as Fareeha herself is.

Or, Fareeha _thinks_ she is not as comfortable.  Her assumptions are corrected when, one morning, they both wrap up their workouts at about the same time.

“You know,” says she, “You don’t have to go all the way back to your quarters just to shower.”

“I do,” Angela agrees, “Yes.”

“I mean,” Fareeha tries again, “You don’t have to worry about anyone saying anything if you use the women’s locker room.  Especially not me!” She regrets that addition instantly, as she does not want to seem as if she is _eager_ to see Angela nude, because that is not what this is about, at all; what she wants is for Angela to feel comfortable.  “I just mean—I don’t know.  You don’t have to worry, or be shy, because I’m sure that—”

“Fareeha,” Angela cuts her off with a laugh, “I’m a doctor.  I am _not_ worried about people seeing me naked, for _any_ reason.  I’ve seen the rest of you with your clothes off more than enough times, and anyway I don’t think I look bad in the slightest.  Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Oh,” Fareeha says, and then, trying not to think about Angela stating that she looks good whilst nude, “So why go back to your quarters?”

“The water pressure is better,” Angela says with a shrug.

“Oh,” is all Fareeha can think to reply, and the conversation ends there, Angela sauntering off.

No matter how pure Fareeha’s intentions might have been, the ultimate result of that conversation is that Fareeha finds herself only noticing how attractive Angela is more often, Angela’s claim that she thinks her own nude form is appealing echoing through her mind.

(Fareeha certainly does not doubt it.)

Of course, that is not the main thing Fareeha notices about Angela, attractiveness—there are other things which are a bigger draw.  In all the right ways, Angela is stubborn, is stalwart, is staunch in her defense of what is _good_ and _just_ , and Fareeha can admire that, even when their differing ideals put them at odds during meetings.  She has a sense of humor, too, quick and often just a touch pointed, very confident and sure in a way that makes Fareeha wonder how she could ever have thought Angela was self-conscious; like most surgeons, Angela does not doubt herself for a second.  Either of these things would be enough to appeal to Fareeha on their own, but combined with the natural chemistry between the two of them, all the ways in which they fit together just so, it is no surprise that Fareeha finds herself beginning to fall for Angela.

(It is no surprise and yet, it is something Fareeha would never have imagined for herself prior to being reintroduced to Angela.  From what she knew of Dr. Ziegler, she thought they would never get along, their politics too different, their stance on the use of force too at odds, but in their time working together they have both come to recognize that their very different methods of handling crises, of defending others, stem from the same core beliefs.  Combined with compatible senses of humor and similar interests outside of working, that they fit well together is undeniable.  So Fareeha falls, and falls hard.)

Of course, the matter of what to _do_ about her feelings is not so simple for Fareeha.  Certainly, Angela has noticed the attention Fareeha pays her, has teased Fareeha about it before, in a way that says she is _flattered_ and not uncomfortable, but that does not mean that Angela is interested in women.  In fact, there is a good deal of evidence to the contrary—including, but certainly not limited to, any number of stories about Angela and Jesse’s exploits at the gay bar near the old HQ—and although she knows that Angela still considers herself gay, given the context of the conversation, Fareeha cannot tell if that means she is still involved when the community of gay men she used to know, or if she is interested in women, now.  Neither answer seems to make sense, to Fareeha; if Angela means that she is still attracted to men, would that not make her straight?  There is no compelling reason for Angela to refer to herself as a man in any sense, after all.  But sexual attraction and gender identity are two very different things, and Fareeha would be a fool to assume that being out as a woman, now, means that Angela is suddenly attracted to women, also.

The more Fareeha considers the issue, the more confused she is, but what is apparent is that when she flirts, Angela always flirts back. 

That, too, could mean nothing.  What if Angela is simply a flirty person?  Some people will flirt back with anyone, just because it amuses them, Fareeha included.  The more Fareeha considers the issue, the less she is certain of—Angela never talks about dating, after all, so it is hard to know anything.

Asking Angela is, somehow, less helpful than not. 

“You know,” Fareeha begins, after a story of one of her own more disastrous first dates, “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned dating anyone.”

“I don’t really date,” Angela’s tone is not embarrassed, but it is rather flat, as if she does not know how to respond to the question, and Fareeha feels badly, now, for pressing.  Being in Overwatch complicates dating enough; Angela’s rather public coming out surely made that worse.

“I’m sorry,” Fareeha starts to say, before Angela cuts her off.

“Don’t be,” Angela says, “It’s entirely by choice.  I’m more of a hookup person.”

“I see,” Fareeha says, embarrassed now to have assumed, and also to have asked about the matter in the first place.

Angela must be able to hear the disappointment in her answer, for she clarifies, “It’s not that I have anything _against_ dating, I just don’t see how any of the rest of you have the time.  I’m too busy to get to know anyone.”

Although it is disappointing to hear, Fareeha can certainly empathize.  It has been a long time since she herself has managed to successfully juggle a relationship and her career.  The subject changes, then, and Fareeha does her best to forget about it.  Regardless of whether Angela is interested in women or not, she is clearly unavailable.

Therefore it comes as quite the surprise when, three weeks later, Angela asks if Fareeha would be interested in joining her at the local lesbian-owned place Lena is always raving about.

“I know I’m the one with the wings, but Aleks is probably a better bet if you need a wingman,” Fareeha has always preferred to use humor when deflecting, even if her puns often fall flat, and she cannot think of a polite way to say that she is really far too interested in Angela to be a good sport about helping her get laid.

 “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not looking for a wingman, then,” there is something almost _amused_ in Angela’s tone, but Fareeha cannot place why.

Even more confusing is the choice of venue; if Angela wants to spend time with her, they have thus far had no problem doing so _on_ base, and a bar, of all places off base, is a rather terrible choice if one wants to spend time with Fareeha, who does not drink.  She knows Angela knows better, and points as much out, “You’d still probably be better off with someone who can drink.”

Now Angela is the one who seems confused, “It’s a coffeeshop?” says she, the statement sounding far more like a question.

“I don’t know why I thought it was a bar,” says Fareeha, unsure of how she managed to miss, in all the conversations, that the place Lena was talking about was a _coffeeshop_ , of all things, “But in that case, why not grab coffee here?”

“Ach du lieber Gott, Fareeha, I’m trying to ask you on a date.”

Well, that _almost_ makes sense, except, “You said you didn’t date?”

For the first time in the entire exchange, Angela seems uncomfortable, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.  I—”

“That’s not a no!” Fareeha sounds a bit too emphatic, to her own ears, but she really, _really_ is not saying no, even if she needs clarification.  “I’m definitely interested.  Maybe a little more than interested.  I just—I don’t really do casual sex, you know?  So I just need to be clear.”

(This is not entirely true—Fareeha has had no-strings arrangements with various friends in the past, but she has _feelings_ for Angela, and they rather preclude any sort of friends with benefits situation.)

“I said I didn’t date because I didn’t have time to spend on getting to know people,” Angela points out, “We already know each other.  I don’t have to worry that you’ll be a bore, or think that I work too much, or be more into the fact that I’m trans, or a member of Overwatch, or famous than you are into _me._ ”  A pause, and Angela’s tone returns again to the careful, if hopeful one of before.  “I already know that trying to form a more romantic relationship with you would be worth the time and effort, Fareeha, because I know _you_.”

“In that case,” Fareeha says, “It’s a date.”

Her reply is not so eloquent as she might like, does not at all capture the depth of what it is she is feeling in the moment, of what it means to her to know that Angela _trusts_ her in the way that she does, but Fareeha does not let herself worry about that.  They will have time enough to discuss as much later.

This was not at all what Fareeha intended when she talked of building a close personal relationship with everyone in Recall, although she knows Jesse will never let her live that phrasing down, now, but it is certainly a better outcome than she could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love two women. actually three bc ana is my real fave. but shes still off being a vigilante when this fic takes place
> 
> also like. as a trans person. u would not Believe what cis ppl assume. fareeha at least is v well-intentioned 
> 
> anyway, hope u enjoyed. if not, well, i cant really do anything abt that, sorry

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, idk if this is a oneshot or if ill do more w this later but like. for now this is all unless ppl really want more/i get inspired
> 
> title is from harry styles' "woman" bc i think im clever
> 
> lmk ur thoughts! unless theyre "i hate trans ppl" bc im trans and i hate to break it to u, buddy, but it wont accomplish anything. it wont even hurt my feelings at this point, tbh


End file.
